Mighty Thimphu

Mighty Thimphu
November 23rd 2010
In the morning Yuri and I made breakfast in our cold apartment. We were surprised to learn that the major river that runs through the city of Thimphu was right outside. Soon we were out the door and on the tour bus of our hosts. They were taking us and the rest of the Wheaton students on an adventure around the city of Thimphu. It seems I had arrived on the right day.
The bus drove for about 45 minutes to the university that was in the mountains surrounding the city. There we were early And because I was not allowed into the women’s dorm I walked out the area around Yuri’s place. I watched as students hustled to their morning class dressed in traditional outfits. After a little while, Yuri emerged shinning in a Bhutanese Kira and we met the other Wheaties on the bus.
Our first stop took us to a traditional paper making studio in Thimphu. We saw how the stuff was made and then we wandered around the gift store purchasing the sacred material. The grainy white sheets are perfect for the painting of Thangkas—painted depictions of Buddhist scriptures and mantras.
The sky around the small South Asian city were clear and cool. Our next stop took us to a museum of Thangkas. As we exited the bus our guide Tsewang reminded us that it was forbidden to prostrate in this museum—a funny warning I thought to myself.
Inside the museum was a collection of the most precious painted thangkas in all of Bhutan. The items had been exhibited (or were planning on making the trip, I couldn’t quite tell) at the San Francisco museum of Asian Art. I walked around the space with Yuri as my guide. She told me the meanings of many of the thangkas and I asked questions about Buddhism as a whole. Toward the end of the line I noticed that some of the Bhutanese visitors to the museum could not contain themselves and started throwing themselves at the statues of the Buddha. The guards did not stop anyone; they just stood there waving incense that thickly invaded the room.
Outside in the sunshine a group of dancers practiced a dragon dance that it was said they learned in Japan. They were preparing for a festival that was still months away.
I was getting desperate for lunch but we still had a stop to go. This time we ended up at the artisanal school where students about my age learn how to make traditional Bhutanese crafts. We went from building to building watching young people carve masks, sculpt with clay, weave textiles, paint thangkas and even shape silver. The rooms of skilled focused workers seemed to never stop. On the walls were slogans along the lines of “gross domestic happiness should be more sought after than gross domestic product” and “you must teach a student so he can help society.”
Lunch came a little late for my appetite but eventually we found ourselves spooning curry and chilly in cream sauce onto beds of rice. Before all of that I went with some Wheaton guys to try and buy a license plate at a store that displayed some in the window. The store turned out to be some sort of print/fax place that happened to make plates. When we asked how much they were the shop keep said that he would just give it to us.
After lunch we headed to a large neighborhood shrine in the middle of the city. The mid-afternoon haze had cleared and the sun was shining as we passed around the stupa and spun prayer wheels. The scenes of ancient Bhutanese women praying was simply stunning. Many elderly people were circumambulating the religious center of the grounds.
Back on the bus we headed to the top Thimphu where the world’s largest statue of the Buddha was being constructed. As we climbed into the thin air my altitude sickness was getting worse. At the top I looked for a spot to relieve myself and in so doing found a remarkable vantage point of the city of Thimphu. Yuri and I took some pictures of the beautiful golden Buddha glimmer in the sunshine.
At city level we were given a break from the tour grind and I escaped with Yuri and her close friend Sarah to a café across from the bank. I had an espresso which beat out my headache and gave me more energy to continue on the day trip. Yuri and Sarah walked me around the tiny downtown area of Thimphu and we ended up at an archery ground watching the daily matchup.
Archery is Bhutan’s national sport and many men spend a few hours a day competing with their team or practicing amongst friends. At this archery ground I could see semi-drunk Bhutanese taunting the other team with war dances. It looked very difficult to shoot such a long ways but it seemed that they had high quality bows and arrows.
The final touristy stop of the day was perhaps the most significant: the national dzong. A dzong is a religious and governmental fortress that is the most important building in the region. This one was particularly important and that is why Yuri had to wear a traditional kira with an ornamental sash. Along the way guards asked her questions in the regional language, to which she replied: “I’m sorry I don’t speak dzongka, I’m Japanese.”
Inside the monastery was a huge statue of Buddha adorned with offerings and yak butter candles. The atmosphere was peaceful and quiet—the monks had already finished their rituals for the day. Outside Tsewang explained some of the importance of this monastery and how it fits into to the larger scheme of things and Yuri and I took photographs of the monstrosity.
Our tour guide left us early to meet with the queen mother next door at her palace and the remnants of the Wheaton group headed to dinner. There we stuffed our faces to capacity with spicyness. My friend Sonam met us at dinner. She was my friend from Wheaton who got me the right documents to travel to Bhutan. After the meal I went with Yuri, Sarah and Sonam to have a drink at a nearby bar. After the bar Yuri and I headed back to the apartment.

To the Top

November 22nd 2010

In the morning the air and the sky were both clear and the jagged mountains hung over the earthly little village of Paro. My friends and I ate a generous breakfast at the hotel then waited around for a taxi to come and collect us. Today was the day we were to climb to the Tiger’s Nest.
Once the taxi arrived it was a 20 minute drive to the foot of the mountain. For Yuri, Devin and Lina who had been there for four months, Bhutan was already starting to look ordinary but for me everything was new and different. I peered out onto the shrubby rice paddies, the migrant workers working on the road and was impressed when we crossed a bridge that was completely covered in prayer flags.
At the foot of the mountain the trail began immediately and the climb was steep and muddy. We stopped almost every 100 meters to take pictures of religious graffiti, religious signs and a prayer wheels—a prayer wheel where if you were to spin the wheel it would have the same effect of saying a prayer. One prayer wheel was powered by hydro energy—it was a mill connected to a stream—so it was constantly praying.
We took a shortcut up the half of the mountain which was a great deal steeper but faster. At the end of the short cut there was a café where we sat and had milk tea. There we met a couple from Colorado and shot pictures. Upon leaving the students who had been living in Bhutan were appalled by how expensive the tea was—about 5 usd a person.
The next portion of the climb began to get much more interesting in terms of scenery. We passed by shrines, endless prayer flags, prayer wheels, dogs, donkeys and all the while we were coming closer to the monastery Tiger’s Nest. On the way I climbed through this crevice in a the mountainside which promised to forgive all of my worldly sins if I could make it through. It was a little difficult because it was a 3x2 hole but somehow I made through to the other side. After a little more walking we came to a bridge over a waterfall that was covered in prayer flags. In the exceptional beauty of that moment I was certain I was in Bhutan. After crossing the bridge we came to the gates of the monastery.
At the monastery we left our possessions at the door and soaked up the beauty of the extraordinary temple alters. When we entered the first temple Yuri went front and center and prostrated in front of the Buddhist deity. The temples were bright in oranges and reds; they were well kept by the robbed monks who wandered around the premise. There were a couple of pilgrims praying in front of the alters. The place smelled like smoky incense and yak butter candles. We peered into a few more prayer rooms and then headed back down to the earth.
It took us almost two hours to get to the bottom of the hill where our driver from earlier was waiting for us. The taxi took us back to the hotel where we got refreshed and collected our stuff to head for Thimphu, the capital city where Yuri and the rest of the Wheaton tribe live.
The drive to Thimphu was about an hour and a half and because we followed a cascading river below reminded of the drive from Ukiah Ca. to Healdsburg and following the Russian River. By the time we were on the outskirts of Thimphu, on Bhutan’s only freeway, the sun had set. We headed into the city to meet the rest of the Wheaties for dinner. At a small pizza joint right off the main street I was united/reunited with some Wheaton students, a Wheaton professor and the visiting parent of a Wheaton student.
The Wheaton students discussed logistics and academic matters at dinner. This was their last week in Bhutan and they had many arrangements to meet. After dinner Yuri and I headed to where we hoped I was staying for night. Yuri had asked a friend/tour guide if I could home stay with his family for a few nights but he had never reconfirmed so we were unsure if the deal was still happening. When we arrived at Tsewang’s house (the tour guide friend) we were greeted by his wife and children who showed us to our own apartment on the complex. Inside there was anything and everything we might need—breakfast, beds, computer etc. We were very happy with our set up and comfortable even in the cold Himalayan night.

The Most Amazing Flight of My Life

November 20th and 21st 2010

The sad, sloppy North American and Australian faces are fixated on the China/Japan soccer game. All of them businessmen, and in their jet lag slump I imagine they are thinking about the only interesting aspect of this game: determining if the players are male or female. This is what is happening in Shanghai’s busiest international airport in the early Saturday evening.
I arrived at Pudong International Airport four (yes 4) hours early in nervous preparation of my journey to Bangkok and then Bhutan. In my free time I wander around the airport and eat crusty airport food that tastes like it was heated up by extinguished cigarettes. Experiencing the airports gloom reminds me of all the shitty flying adventures I have had traveling back to my home country. Luckily, I am not one of the sorry specimens; I am going on the trip of my recent dream.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, I boarded a dirty Chinese airliner and took my seat by the window. The stress of making connections withers away as the plane takes off on time. I sleep most of the four hour flight to Bangkok and wake up in one of the biggest airports in the world. In Bangkok I have to get my passport stamped and enter the country with my checked bags to re-check into my next flight on the Bhutanese airliner. As fate would have it the Druk Air check in opened at 5am and it was now close to 2am. I stepped over hordes of sleeping backpackers, found a simple Thai café, discovered the phenomenon of Thai coffee and read my McCarthy western.
After what seemed like a second eternity I was able to check my bags and get my visa OKed. I went through security and fell into a sea of blonde skinned adventurers fresh from their South East Asian excursions. Some more airport wandering and then I confined myself to waiting at the gate about an hour before the flight was set to depart. I looked around at the groups of Bhutanese nationals, Nepalese migrants, American, Japanese and Scandinavian tourists all eager to get to the kingdom in the clouds. Come boarding time, we took a bus to the small Airbus A319 on the tarmac. I took my seat next to the window and met my Bhutanese seat mates who were returning to their country from a telecom convention in Hong Kong.
By the time the plane was screaming down the runway my heart was throbbing with the force of a 367 horse power turbo charged whip, I’m not sure if I’ll faint or throw up or just not make it through customs without a stretcher—I’m too excited. When we are airborne the flight attendants serve me curry breakfast in their traditional outfits. I sleep a little bit but am woken up when the plane begins a descent.
On the ground of the plane’s first stop I peer out into the undeveloped rustic village we just landed in—it looks like Mowgli’s village in Jungle book. I clarify with my seat mates that we are in southern and to my surprise they inform me that Bagdogra is actually in India. I was in India!
After some tourists and Bhutan’s richest man got off the plane we jet into the open air. When the plane gets out of cloud cover I notice out my window that the earth is still above us. The gargantuan peak to the east is Everest!
Soon the plane begins its second and final decent into Bhutan. The pilot seems to search for the right valley mixed up in the jagged, mountainous terrain bellow. Then we fly over the airport about 3000 feet off the ground. We circle once all the while descending in order to approach the airstrip. The airliner nearly scrapes against the trees bellow before touchdown. The brakes slam us to a halt and I have reached Bhutan.
When the flight was deplaned many tourists got out to snap shots of the plane that just made it. I don’t, not because I don’t have a camera but I am eager to get into the country. I get in the tourist line but after an inspector sees my papers I am redirected to the diplomat only section. It takes forever to get through but after a 20USD fee I am in. I make my way through the tiny airport and outside to the greeters. There is this girl with a worried face scanning the recent arrivals when I walk right outside the door I hear ”Oh!” It takes a second to realize the face I have not seen for seven months but when I do Yuri greets me with a long awaited kiss.
I am also greeted by two Wheaton students Devin and Lina. Together we go into the town of Paro, check into our hotel and then we all go out to eat lunch. We spend the day exploring Paro, the neighboring teaching school and the region’s dzong. At every corner I am thoroughly intrigued by beauty and the wonder of a distant and beautiful kingdom. All day long I can’t hide a smile that has been hiding in my soul for too long. I am in Bhutan I kept telling myself.